Surprise, surprise, that woman that survived the pile-up on the M8 and ended up fainting all over the wine isle in tesco yesterday, she turned zombie. As it happens she did survive the crash but she neglected to tell anyone that she got bitten by one of those zeds that surged into the carnage of cars and, fresh meat. That may be a bit callous calling them fresh meat but, that's exactly what they were. If a zombie is coming at you and there's no way you can get out of his path, then you're lunch my friend.

A few genuinely clean survivors had seen the woman get bitten before pulling her arm back into the car, and scrambling out the passenger side. She clambered over the wreckage and flagged down a lift then made her way into tesco for a nice bottle of red nerve calmer. That's when I saw her.

The poor shop assistant didn't stand a chance. He must have had the most basic of fist aid training, which was certainly nowhere near enough to prepare him for someone dying then coming back to life again. Poor guy never stood a chance. He was still trying to resuscitate her when she opened her eyes and bit his lips off. The security guard arrived only to see the poor guy lying on the floor, with his throat open while the woman chewed happily on his left cheek.

You understand, this isn't my account, this is what they're allowing on the radio now. This time last year, it would have been “There has been an incident...blah, blah..” but now I think they just want people to know how bad this shit is getting, everyone needs to be de-sensitised to this escalating atrocity, otherwise we're all going to just run screaming at the first sign of a set of grey lifeless eyes. We're all going to turn an run, only to have our hair caught by the dead hands of the ever increasing enemy and have our brains as an appetiser and our blood as a delicious aperitif.

Suffice to say, the security guard bought it as well. People have no idea how to deal with zombies at all. Don't get me wrong, I'm by no means an authority on the undead but if I was that security guard, I would have stolen a pair of running shoes and fucked right off out of there. I'm in this game to survive now.

Anyway, body count at Tesco, Port Glasgow. Forty three, last count. The “situation” is under control.

I won't be going to Tesco, Port Glasgow in the foreseeable future.

10:30

I'm still actually enjoying the exercise first thing in the morning. I just keep thinking on the results; the benefits of have a finely tuned body, a little more fit than just being able to carry four bags of messages (groceries) up the stairs without laboured breathing.

12:32

I passed the house where I'd seen that zombie kid in the garden. Most of the houses down his street have had their windows smashed in. I guess that means there's nobody home. Wonder why he's still there? Surely whoever smashed the windows would have seen him and thrown stones or bricks or whatever at him too. His face was all bloody, what was left of it. I think he's been chewing at the gate again, trying to break through to get at something. I kinda feel sorry for him. People are saying that they don't have any feel anything, pain, hurt, sadness or happiness. How do they know? Have the experts learned so much in the past months about something that has come out of nowhere! No doubt there's a lab somewhere with undead specimens tied down and primed for experimentation.

10:26

I've added an extra 1.5kg onto the weights I'm using, just two barbells with iron weights, now 5.5kg on each bar. I'm doing the exercises slow for the real burn.

I'm going to take a stroll past that garden where I saw the little zombie boy. I haven't forgotten about Connie, but she's not high on my priorities right now.

I've been watching more zombie footage on youtube, I thought it was a lot of shit at first but now I'm going to study it, because I can imagine there's going to be a lot more footage over the next few months. I hope everyone else is preparing for the big Zed shite to hit the fan!

10:15

In a moment of vanity, I decided to measure my muscles this morning, as a place to start. If I'm going to do this getting fit and getting big thing, I'm going to have to take it seriously. I won't say what my biceps, triceps, chest or skinny leg measurements are, but suffice to say my stomach needs a lot of work. I need to work on the sit-ups. I briefly flirted with weight training when I was younger; sixteen to eighteen and was at my physical peek. There was this guy at the gym I went to, his name was dice, he was as wide as a truck for the front, nice looking guy rode a motorbike, but from the side you couldn't see him. He had no arse and I don't remember seeing him ever work on his legs. I'm not saying he had pipe cleaners for legs but I'm thinking maybe if I'm going to get massive I have to concentrate on not one area, but all over body enhancement. The exercise bike is on easy setting and if I'm to progress any I'm going to have to crank it up a notch, as they say in the movies.

It's quite and there was nothing much to say about Saturday and Sunday. I went for another walk, and went past that kid's house to see if he was still there. I didn't see him. I wonder if he's still there, in his house or if he's even still walking around. What happened to his family? I know it's none of my business, I'd just like to know, natural human curiosity or bloody noseyness as it's more commonly know.

I can't take too much on at the moment, I'm not some stupid avenger type or vigilante who's looking to get his head kicked about the street. I have big plans for myself, and the biggest of them is staying alive so no futile actions at this stage of the game.

9:58

I've decided it's time to get fit. I watched as two of those undead shitheads pursued an old lady along the street behind the flat. I saw it all from my bedroom window. The zeds didn't move very fast, but the pensioner had no chance. The two zeds dressed in tracksuits, possibly in their mid 30s, gave chase along the street until their geriatric victim went over on her ankle. As she went down, the faster of the two undead grabbed her hair. A whole clump came away in his hands as she fell. I couldn't quite see what happened next because the trees round the back-green are fully covered in leaves. I watched as the zombies moved just out of sight, dragging an old set of spindly blood covered legs with them. I could almost hear her slippered heels dragging along the ground.

I'm not ready to help yet. I'm not fit enough, not confident enough, but I will be.

Here's my new fitness regime (starting tomorrow):

Morn (9:00 up on the dot no snooze)

warm up (piss first, if needed)

20 push-ups (to get the blood circulating)

Bicep Curl 2x30 fast reps (definition)

Tricep Curl 2x15 fast reps (definition)

Shoulder Press 2x20

60 sit-ups (various styles)

Exercise Bike (20mins)

I'm not trying to be the hulk or anything but it should help me on my way to becoming fit.

10:00

I'm sure I heard someone in the close last night around 11:40. I went to the spyhole, which took me absolute ages as the floorboards and the laminate flooring creak with the slightest pressure. I can't tip toe because if I'm right that would make it worse by centralizing and concentrating the weight on a smaller surface making each tippy toe step heavier and creakier that normal. I might just be talking shite.

I'm sure I saw a shadow at the top of the stairs, as if someone was about to come round the corner, then it went away again. I double checked the locks on the door, gave them a good old tug, and yes, a bit of a kick just to make sure they would stop...well, whoever or whatever they need to stop. I'm feeling less and less secure in this flat nevermind this street. I've been avoiding it, but I think it's time to start thinking about protecting myself, I can't remember the last time I saw an actual policeman pounding the beat. The laws of society are quickly changing and I need to be prepared for whatever shit comes with it.

10:13

I found half a box of all bran at the back of the cupboard where I store the pots and pans. The packet isn't out of date but not long until it is, if that stuff ever goes off. How would you know, it's not as if you could tell by getting the shits, cause that's what it's supposed to do. Took a full bowl anyway, just hope I don't shite myself with nerves when I'm out in the close. I'm going to listen out for that voice upstairs again, wink, wink.

10:38

That is one fucked up place upstairs! I couldn't stay in there for long, I'm just not used to creeping around in someone else's house. My heart is pumping. If I had got caught up there, God knows what could have happened to me. I reckon they'd have thrown away the key, and not surprising, it's like a mad scientist's lab; everywhere I looked there was some gadget with lights, some still active/flashing, or tubes going from one contraption to another. It's a bit difficult to describe so I'll see if I can take a picture the next time I'm up, which certainly won't be today. The lock is back on and that's the way it'll stay until I'm sure no-one is returning.

I'm getting excited again. I feel like a little boy who's about to break into an abandoned shed or sneak into a garden and steal from the apple tree.

10:05

It's a strange feeling being the only tenant in the building. I think everyone else has either had the common sense to stay with a friend or relation or has fell victim to the virus. It feels like the whole building is mine, I'm really starting to feel that I can do whatever I like in this place, because there won't be any retribution. Who's going to find out if I shit in my own close, no-one ever comes here, and I can't blame people for being wrapped up in their own world. My friends, acquaintances have their own family that they must be equally concerned about, I can't expect them to phone or pop round and check to see if I'm still breathing. To fuck with this, I'm going to see what's upstairs, that's if I can get past that lock on the gate. Well, what would you do if you know there was no-one coming back to a flat that could get access to? Exactly.

10:15

Shite! No key. I know, what was I expecting, the damn key to be under a mat or handing on a little fancy key holder marked “Gate Key!”

I'm not giving up.

15:00

I've been a bad boy. I thought I heard someone upstairs, calling down to me saying they were stuck so I went to my tool cupboard and took out my hacksaw.

I got halfway through the arm of the lock when the blade snapped. I don't even have a spare blade.

17:44

Thank the Lord for the internet and Google. I'm going to attempt to “drill the lock”, I've got the extension all ready unwound and a bit that should do the job – I popped out earlier and sized it up against the lock. I am very nervous and have, I must add, never attempted anything like this before. I don't know if anyone will believe me about the voice if I get caught. I don't have any other story ready so that'll have to do.

Everyone, or anyone that's left around here, should be sitting down at their sausages and beans right now. I could be changing the locks on my door couldn't I? Shite! It's now or never.

18:10

Job done. I managed to drill the lock and it was easier than I thought. I drilled up through the bottom, and it popped open, well not exactly popped but will a bit of encouragement it did open. I've left it so it looks as though it's still locked, just in case. No-one will come back but my paranoia tells me different.

After all there's no rush, it's just my obstinate curiosity that pushes me.

23:41

The days are getting lighter earlier and darker later, something to do with equinox I suppose, so I'm getting up earlier. I'm not feeling so close to depression any longer, although I do wish I could speak to my mum, dad or Connie.

I found the charger for my mobile phone, under the bed, so I'll charge it up and give someone a call....anyone.

It's great to have the fridge full again, even if it is yoghurt, wine and large plastic jars of beans (5 of them). I know it's secure entry into the close but I've bought another two locks for the front door, just in case. Desperate times call for desperate measures and that goes for the undesirables as well. I don't think they're going to lie down and cease all crime because the country is in viral jeopardy. Quite the opposite, I think some will see this as an excuse to run bloody riot.

10:35

I found a bicycle down in cellar last month, last time I was down there I noticed it hadn't moved so no-one's interested in it, right? Someone's forgotten about it. It's a bit old, rusty dusty and all that but I reckon it could get me Glasgow, or at the very least out of plague central, Greenock. I'm not as fit as I used to be and it's going to be a bit of a struggle, who am I trying to kid, it's going to be a bastard of a ride and if I reach the hospital in one piece they better have a spare bed ready for me.

11:28

Just saw on SkyNews that the Channel Tunnel (aka the chunnel) has been put under strict quarantine. George Stewart, A forty year old male passenger on the Eurostar, had displayed signs of the early stages of CZ, but fellow passengers thought he just had the cold, then he stopped breathing and died very suddenly, only to rise again a few minutes later. An off duty nurse, thirty five year old Margaret Hemming, who was attending to him, was his first victim. The reanimated body of Mr. Stewart sat up, grabbed her by the throat and bit into her neck. He claimed twelve victims in total before help arrived in the tunnel. 700 people are now being evacuated from the train. 700!! That's mental. I'm getting quite used to the sight the hazmat suit, although the ones they used today were white, not yellow. According to Hazmat Suit Wikipedia, which we all take as gospel, white suits are level B (US) protecting against splashes from hazardous chemicals. In Europe they are type 2: Protects against liquid and gaseous chemicals. Non gas tight. More or less equivalent to US level B. You learn something new everyday don't you. Just a little bit of trivia there. Right, time for lunch then a bike ride that I am not looking forward to in the slightest.

13:28

I've stopped at Langbank. I can see two army trucks and six soldiers, they're still here topping cars and checking them. I should be all right. I don't have a cold or anything.

15:40

I'm back home at the flat. I'm pissed off and exhausted. I didn't get up to Glasgow, obviously, as those army numskulls wouldn't let me past. They said it looked as though I had a fever, maybe the fever and that no-one with the fever was going to get out of town. I told them I was almost forty and that I hadn't cycled for twenty years or so. They told me that if I wanted to reach that magic four Oh, then they suggested that I turn round and cycle back home, slowly. A small argument developed between me and the sergeant, then he showed me his fist then his rifle and the trigger on it that his finger was resting on. He told me his finger was getting more and more restless by the minute. Each time I opened my mouth his finger got a little more “restless”. I closed my mouth and took the hint. Bastard!

I've quite often though that, driving back from a destination is quicker, or at least seems quicker than driving to that place. Maybe because it's not new any more and the brain recognises landmarks and isn't so uptight. That wasn't the case on this journey. I hate bicycles now, I nearly died doing something like a 15 miles round-trip and no matter how much I need to get somewhere, I am not putting myself through that ever again.

Connie can wait, well, she doesn't have much choice does she.